Saturday, January 10, 2015

Identity crisis and the bikeride talk show

New year, new blog. 

As you know, I only write when inspired to. I hope you will appreciate my need to *not* post out of clickable desperation. I am not a money-making blogger, I am only a sometimes storyteller, fan of triathlon, and creative spirit in bursts, who likes to share. 

I was just having a flashback to riding my bike, at about the age of 10. Like most Floridians, my day-to-day bike was a beach cruiser. First of all, it was purple. A deep purple custom chosen by yours truly. It had an extra wide, comfy seat and handlebars that stretched out and up so that you could look like jimmy buffet seated upright at the bar as you casually smiled at all the girls in their bikinis waving at you from their beach towels and blankets, while you rode. A bike. Except that I was a ten year old girl riding up and down a flat suburban street named after a cigarette brand and rounding about alone on the cul de sac three hundred and forty six times. 

While I did this, pretty much every day after school and all day during the summertime (my parents did work, so I'm sure I went to summer camp at some point, but that is not how I remember it), I hosted a talk show. It was "The Ashley Show", I'm pretty sure, and in fact it had the air of a variety show, because I would also frequently sing in between guest appearances. 

It was, obviously, awesome. 

I interviewed celebrities, everyday people (like my grandma, who would explain how she accomplished her best recipes and how much she missed Staten Island.) Cute boys at school were prompted to explain how much they liked me, and then I would sing them a song. 

I could ride for hours like this. 

For some reason this pleasant memory came upon me in the middle of an identity crisis I'm having. Every time I go to work on the musical with my friend Sibyl I get a teasing taste of a life I thought I would have had. A life I tried to have, but couldn't sustain. A life I may have sustained, except for the fact that I desired many many other things (mostly snot-nosed little lego brat things), things I couldn't have lived without. 

And then I wonder what defines me, what career bullet points I will be adding to my resume in the next few years, and what direction my life is heading. 

And in the middle of this soul-crushing foray, I remember a time I made up shit riding around on my bike. And that is a glimpse at the core of me. Just riding around, enjoying the chat, the occasional song, and the freedom of the cul de sac. 

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